


The Nameless Concubine

by ConvenientAlias



Category: Yīng Xióng | Hero (2002)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, M/M, Yuletide Treat
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-24
Updated: 2020-12-24
Packaged: 2021-03-10 17:14:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,882
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28280715
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ConvenientAlias/pseuds/ConvenientAlias
Summary: The king of Qin does not order Nameless killed. Instead, he takes him as a concubine.
Relationships: Wú míng | Nameless/Qín Wáng | the King of Qin
Comments: 6
Kudos: 8
Collections: Yuletide 2020





	The Nameless Concubine

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Itylien](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Itylien/gifts).



The First Emperor of Qin is written in the history books to have had one specific concubine only ever noted as “Nameless”.

This strikes some historians as a bit odd. If the concubine had no name, why bother to mention it so often? Easy enough to say “a concubine” or “the Emperor’s favorite concubine” (for so the nameless concubine apparently was) rather than “Nameless” every time. Is it that the name has been expunged from the records due to an unspeakable crime, some ask? (One source claims “Nameless” attempted to assassinate the emperor, but the story is not entirely credible and not greatly backed by other sources.) Or is it, as some claim, that the concubine’s name really was “Nameless”?

To modern historians, a conundrum. But even were they to rack their brains over it for hours and hours, this nameless concubine still could not possibly cause them as much inner turmoil as he caused the court (and the emperor, though he was only a king at the time, and indeed his own self) with his induction into the king’s service.

* * *

This is how it began:

More than a hundred archers stretched their bows and set arrows to them, all pointed at the Nameless concubine—who was at that point no concubine but a Nameless assassin. “Permission to execute,” the soldiers chanted, ready for orders from their king, ready to kill. “Permission to execute.”

The captain who led these soldiers stood close to the king, ready to protect him further attack. The king could have laughed at this belated solicitude. Had Nameless really wanted to kill him, even a hundred paces away and more he perhaps might have managed it. He knew how to handle arrows and how to handle soldiers with far less training than he, and he was far faster than the king. And only a minute ago, he had been just ten paces away—no, a minute ago he had been pressed close against the king’s body, practically inhaling the king’s breath as he whispered, “I trust you will keep these ideals of swordsmanship in mind in the future.”

Nameless stood by the gate, waiting to see if the king would shoot or not shoot, no apparent intention to either attack or flee. Submitting to the king’s judgment, knowing it could only be death.

The king said, “Take him alive. I want…” (Nameless’s body flashed through his mind. The way hard muscle had pressed against his; the clean smell of him, the smoothness of his movements, the serenity on his face even as he barely repressed killing intent. The feeling that this, too, was a man who could see him. Warm breath on his neck.) “I want this man to be my concubine. He must be taken and brought to the Inner Palace unharmed.”

The captain goggled.

Nameless, who could hear the king from the gate—even far away, a king’s voice still reached—froze even stiller than he already was.

The soldiers, however, who had been trained not to question the orders of the king even when they seemed bizarre, lowered their bows and stowed away their arrows. Approximately twenty of them detached themselves from the ranks to swarm Nameless. Had he resisted, he could have defeated them easily. As it was, only two actually grabbed him, one on each arm. The rest stood by as he was marched out of the courtyard and off to the Inner Palace, where he would be turned over to the officials _there_ to deal with. The Inner Palace governed itself, and knew more or less how to handle the arrival of a new concubine, no matter how unorthodox or unexpected.

* * *

The king had made an impulsive decision.

Being a king, the consequences of impulsive decisions were different for him. On the one hand, few would dare to call him out when he made a mistake. On the other hand, if he made a truly bad decision, the results might affect entire nations.

He did have in his life a couple people who would call him out on his decisions precisely for this reason. One of these was his head eunuch, who on the induction of a new concubine who was 1. male, and, more importantly, 2. an assassin, came to very politely question his reasoning behind this choice. None of his concubines had ever been male or assassins in the past, after all. And they generally had actual names, too.

The king said, “I’ll speak to you about this because I trust you. Nameless, no matter his past, is a man I respect, who understands what I want to do unifying the kingdoms. Moreover, he had a chance to kill me and decided not to. I believe we can trust he will not try again in the future. I had to spare him, and I wanted to keep him by my side. At the same time, the court would never tolerate a past assassin as a minister or an advisor. Concubines, on the other hand, are up to my discretion, and are not subject to the same rules as others, though I understand he’ll face the Inner Palace’s discipline if he acts out again. With your eyes on him, I’m sure he won’t be a risk to the court—though again, I must say I think he no longer means any harm.”

The head eunuch hummed. There was, he thought, no surer way of seeing that a man wouldn’t kill you than killing him first, and no less sure way than taking him as a concubine without so much as asking him what he thought of it. To be fair, Nameless had made no attempts at killing any of the Inner Palace officials or his fellow concubines, nor did he seem frustrated at his fate. Mostly he seemed bewildered. He’d made no attempts to escape the Inner Palace; he had made many remarks on how he expected this was all a mistake and the king would soon change his mind.

His voice, when he made these remarks, sounded a little sad under a façade of calm. All the servants currently caring for him (and watching him) would rush to assure him that the king clearly had a great interest in him, indeed a great affection for him, having spared his life and taken him as a concubine, and that the king rarely changed his mind on such matters—his word could be trusted. They would then pile questions upon him: Did he want a bath? Some food and drink? A change of clothing? Did he want them to brush his hair? Could he use something to pass the time—calligraphy supplies, perhaps, or a guqin, or a book of poetry? Or would he like to play weiqi with them? Nameless would be very bemused at these offers and refuse the majority of them, but at least would smile or get distracted and stop looking so melancholy, thank goodness. All the servants already liked him a lot. They liked having something to gossip about. They found him, and the king’s sudden interest in him, terribly romantic.

The head eunuch could sympathize with all of this, but he found the fact that Nameless might murder the king a bit more compelling than the fact that when he talked about how he’d probably have to leave soon he looked pitiful.

Pitiful people could still commit assassinations, and Nameless had proved himself a capable killer.

“Yes, very capable. Very skilled and very clever to have concocted this scheme,” the king agreed when the head eunuch said this. “Wise, too, to change his mind at the last moment. A man with the ability to kill me and the vision to realize why he should not. That is precisely why I want to keep him. He will be a useful advisor to me. You know it is good to fill one’s Inner Palace with quick minds, not just pretty faces and shapely bodies.”

The head eunuch sighed. He would pretend to believe his king’s words. One did not contradict a king about his own motivations.

But when the king went on to specify at great length all the clothes, jewelry, cosmetics and perfume that should be offered to his new concubine, it was hard to keep a straight face. “Your majesty,” the head eunuch suggested eventually, “this is great consideration you are showing Nameless. Perhaps you should come by to visit when these gifts are presented, or soon afterward, so he may show his appreciation.”

The king asked, “Do you think he’ll really appreciate it all? I was thinking merely of what suited his station.” He said this, but there was an eager look on his face. “Well, I’m sure you’re right. I should at least visit to see how he’s settling in and make sure he doesn’t need anything he’s not being offered. And to assure him of his safety, clarify his position… yes, you’re right, all of these things are necessary.”

The head eunuch, who had not said any of these things, said, “Thank you, your majesty. I’ll make sure Nameless is ready for your visit, then.”

He would tell Nameless what to expect and see that he knew how to behave; he would also make sure the Inner Palace’s guards were ready in the area just in case there was another assassination attempt. Having the king die in the Inner Palace would be a very unfortunate way for him to lose his job and likely his life.

* * *

Nameless was a man of Zhao. It was his responsibility, even if he could not kill the king of Qin, to forever hate him.

He was a man who had tried to assassinate the king. It was the king’s duty—and should have been his pleasure—to execute him.

Yet Nameless was living in the king’s palace, in the Inner Palace no less, and given all the greatest luxuries Qin could offer. And he was accepting them. Silk robes smooth and soft and bright, with the finest embroidery imaginable. He’d never even touched clothes so beautiful. They were largely blue, a color the king seemed to favor. He was given fragrant perfumes and delicious food and wine. His servants lived to hear his every wish. All this for a man with no name, an assassin of Zhao who had spent ten years focusing on nothing but the art of war, but on training his mind and body for slaughter. For a low-level official of an obscure county who no one had ever looked at twice, except perhaps for Sky, Flying Snow, and Broken Sword, and even they had looked at him and seen a weapon.

What on earth had the king of Qin seen when he looked at him? Nameless could not fathom it.

But here he was, and somehow he was accepting all of this bounty. Somehow he had spared the king’s life, and somehow he had been offered mercy in turn. Mercy and something more.

The king came to visit him after another extravagant gift of robes and other precious items were sent over. They followed the formalities of greeting, and then sat down for tea and a conversation. The tea things, made of jade, and the tea leaves, a fine blend, were yet another recent gift from the king. When the king thanked Nameless for the hospitality, Nameless could not help but point this out.

“Ah.” The king’s mouth twisted in a wry smile. “You know, all of this is largely bought with the reward money I would have given you for killing Sky, Flying Snow, and Broken Sword.”

“I deserve no rewards from your majesty, as you know, having done you no real service.”

“Was granting me my life no real service? Surely it was a service to both me and to Qin.”

Nameless shrugged. Having met the king in person, he did not hate him as he had thought for years he would and should. However, he had done what he did for the sake of peace and unification of all nations. It had not been for the sake of Qin, and certainly not a personal mercy. To be honest, he had felt relieved not to kill this man he had been talking to about such deep matters, this man who held an odd fascination for him (and not in the way his existence had focused Nameless on murder for ten years). But that had not been his motive. More to the point, “In that case, every citizen of Qin has done the same as I, for none of them has murdered you either.”

“None of them could. You could and held back.” The king’s eyes were fixed on Nameless’s face, and Nameless wasn’t sure whether to feel more self-conscious over the makeup the servants had helped him put on or more worried over whether his expression would hold steady and calm under such scrutiny. “To be judged by you and found worthy of life made me feel… at peace.”

“I could say the same about your majesty,” Nameless said. This was true.

“Then perhaps you understand why I kept you here, why I wish to make you mine,” the king said. “I could not want more than to have you as a companion, and perhaps to have the benefit of your wisdom. So I made you my concubine. If this life displeases you, I will release you from my service. But I greatly hope that you will stay.”

Nameless should have said no, as a man of Zhao, as a low-level official who had no such aspirations as the Inner Palace, as an assassin who had made his body into an instrument of war, not of rest or pleasure. Instead he said, “It would be my great honor to serve your majesty in this way.”

Good, good, very good. The king was pleased, only still a little bit nervous. Nameless would stay with him, but when he said “this way”, did he mean what the king hoped he meant?

He found out about an hour later, when they were both done with tea and Nameless invited him back to the bedroom. “You can listen to me play guqin, or I to you,” he suggested. “I’m sure your majesty is more accomplished than I.”

They played a song each, neither exactly a genius but neither unskilled either. And then, as the last notes the king had played died away, Nameless took his arm and pulled him to the bed.

He was a strong man. The king remembered, as Nameless pressed him down against silken sheets, the way he had felt pressed against this man’s body the day they met. The shock of closeness had been almost as great as the shock of life, of not having a sword pressed through his chest. Strong, and at the time fast, able to cross ten paces in the space of a breath. But now he proved he could also be torturously slow as he slotted their mouths together and gently drew the king’s robes apart. Slow, and his strength a terrible thing when the king tried to pull his robes off in turn, to hurry him up, and Nameless, immoveable, refused to be rushed.

What a disobedient concubine he was, determined to enjoy himself and to pleasure the king only at a rhythm he found acceptable. The king’s heart raced. His pulse pounded. Nameless granted him one shed robe, then another. Slow, deliberate kisses. He shifted a leg between the king’s legs, granted him the barest amount of friction. The king had given Nameless a bounty of gifts; Nameless was a miser, or at least, he was the sort of man to give only little bit by little bit.

At last he rolled off the king entirely and lay beside him on his stomach. The king sat up and frowned at him. “What are you doing?” Nameless appeared to be quite ready to laze about all the rest of the evening, maybe even to fall asleep right now.

“I am presenting myself for your majesty’s use,” Nameless said in that same steady voice. (Though he was a bit flushed.) “I believe a pot of salve was one of your majesty’s presents—it’s over on the bureau. Unless of course that was simply a clever idea of one of the servants. Anyway, you may find it useful.”

Indeed, the king had not thought so far ahead or felt bold enough yet to provide salve, but there it was. The king went and fetched it, and, straddling Nameless’s legs, applied it where necessary. Now he set the pace, and went quite a bit faster than Nameless. Nameless didn’t seem to mind, if the gasps and moans he let out were any indication.

When they had both reached satisfaction, they shared a long warm bath and some further conversation. About the future of the country that might become an empire, about the future the two of them might have together.

(The servants eavesdropped and made notes.)

* * *

The rest—how a nameless concubine became the favorite of the First Emperor of Qin, and how his advice proved valuable on many occasions and his love became one of the emperor’s main supports in life—well.

All of that is history.


End file.
